I’d never understood their relationship, and I didn’t think I ever would. They’d spent so many years apart, but it seemed that it took only days before they fell into a loving relationship that rivaled how they’d been when I was young. My mum smiled and laughed and looked at him with tenderness, and it had been difficult to adjust to at first. Eventually, though, I’d come to the realization that their relationship wasn’t my business. I’d been taking care of my mum for so long that it had been hard to let go, but she’d wanted me to. She needed him in a way that a son could never fill. She needed her man, and as odd as it was for me, I had to accept that she was happier than I could ever remember.
I heard the front door open and close as Amy moved slightly behind me, and I relaxed into the bed again, pulling her arm more tightly around my waist as her hips met my ass.
I’d just closed my eyes again when I heard it.
The house shook as the thunderously loud noise hit my ears, and I was up and out of bed before I was fully aware of what was happening.
“Patrick?” Amy called frantically as I threw open the door to our bedroom and raced toward the front door.
“Mum!” I yelled as I ran outside and caught sight of the burning mass of metal that had been my mum’s car. “Mum!”
I couldn’t see anyone near it, but the minute I got close enough to search more thoroughly, the car next to it caught fire. I stumbled back when a wave of heat blasted against my bare chest. Both cars were burning then, lighting up the early morning and breaking through the quiet with the sound of creaking metal and odd popping noises.
“Jesus Christ,” I gasped in horror. I glanced back at the house and felt my heart stutter in my chest.
“Get in de fuckin’ house!” I yelled at Amy, running toward where she was silhouetted in the doorframe in nothing but one of my t-shirts. “Get inside!”
I wrapped my arm around her waist as I reached her and practically threw her inside. She’d been so close, fuck me, she’d been so close.
“What’s happening?” Amy cried, pulling at the skin on my arms as I tried to turn away from her.
“Patrick?” The voice was quiet, a shell-shocked whisper that barely reached my ears, but had me automatically turning toward it.
I stumbled toward the back of the house and found her.
I’ll never forget my mother’s ravaged face as she met my eyes from where she was kneeling on the floor of her room. She knew. The minute it had happened, she knew.
“He was heatin’ up the car,” she whispered brokenly, her hands raised palm up in front of her.
“Oh, my God,” Amy whispered behind me.
I was frozen as I stared into my mother’s tear-filled eyes, but my wife wasn’t. When I didn’t move, Amy shoved past me and dropped to the floor next to her.
“You’re okay,” she said over and over again, as she pulled my mum into her arms. “Patrick will take care of things. You’re okay.” Amy began to cry as Mum’s wails filled the house and my body came back to life.
I’d been so worried about making sure that Amy was safe that I hadn’t even tried to save whomever was in the car.
My Da. Maybe I could still save him.
I could hear sirens in the distance, so I tossed my pistol into a drawer on my way outside and ran to my mum’s car. It was still burning, the flames shooting into the sky, but I forced myself to get close enough that I could see inside the driver’s window.
I didn’t see him at first, but as I got close enough that I could feel little embers burning my skin, I finally found him.
He was inside still, lying across the seats, and I felt my entire body go numb as I took three stumbling steps backward.
I didn’t bother trying to get him out. He was quite obviously already gone.
Chapter 31
Amy
The days after Robbie’s death were unbelievably hard.
I hadn’t known him well. His personality didn’t invite deep conversation, but I’d lived with him for months and he’d loved the same two people that I did. He’d been a quiet guy, very polite, and he’d worshipped Peg.
Watching Peg in agony was one of the hardest things I’d ever gone through because I didn’t know how to help her. She’d become a shell of the woman I knew, and seemed to walk around in a fog when she actually made the effort to get out of bed.
Patrick had gone so deep inside his head that he was barely there, even when he was sitting right next to me. He didn’t sleep. He carried a pistol with him at all times and seemed to be waiting for something. I felt him drifting away, farther and farther, as he tried to come to terms with what had happened.
As if you could ever come to terms with something so violent.
I didn’t understand it all. The whispers and the comments from neighbors went right over my head, but I knew with certainty that if Patrick didn’t get his shit together quickly, things would only get worse.
Three days after we had Robbie’s funeral in the same church we’d been married in, I’d had enough.
I knew Patrick was devastated. I knew how devastated he was. But Peg wasn’t getting out of bed, and Patrick wasn’t going in to work, and something had to happen. Life hadn’t stopped, but the two Gallaghers had. They’d come to a complete standstill, and I was terrified out of my mind.
“Peg, are you hungry?” I called quietly into her darkened bedroom. I didn’t want to wake her up if she was sleeping, but she hadn’t been eating very much. Her slight frame couldn’t afford to miss any more meals.